


Interrogate

by tomridswhorcrux



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arrested, Azkaban, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Dates, Flirting, Interrogation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sarcasm, Sarcastic Draco Malfoy, Sexual Tension, Smut, Tension, information, see you at seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:40:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomridswhorcrux/pseuds/tomridswhorcrux
Summary: Information in exchange for a date?Hermione is stuck with interrogating arrestee #01675, who just happens to be Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Kudos: 69





	Interrogate

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to another lil one shot, a little tension never hurt anybody, right? This is very inaccurate in the terms of legal things, but just pretend that it is. Hope you enjoy!

“Miss Granger? Arrestee number 01675 will be with you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Hermione nods to the Ministry member as she looks down at her clipboard. The witch lets out a sigh as she realizes who is next.

_Arrestee #01675_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

_Arrested on May 12th, 1998 on charges of murder, conspiring to commit murder, kidnapping and torturing, misuse of magic and magical artifacts, and housing of war criminal, Lord Voldemort._

_Oh great_ Hermione thinks. Of all the days she has to interrogate, it _has_ to be the one that her name-calling schoolmate is at. The witch quickly shuffles all the papers on her clipboard and brings up a fresh page of legal parchment. 

The small interrogation room at the Ministry is less than ideal, there is only a table and chair in the center of the room. No windows or even a chair for her to sit in. Hermione considers conjuring a chair, but then remembers that the room is warded to suppress magic.

Hermione paces the room until she hears the heavy, metal door unlock. She quickly turns her head to see Draco Malfoy.

He’s as tall as she remembers, roughly six-one or six-two. His hair is tousled and disheveled—she ventures to guess that the grooming products in Azkaban are less than desirable—but it is still the blinding platinum-blonde, the forrunning Malfoy family trait never seems to fade. 

A ministry member brings Draco over to the lone seat in the center of the room. Draco’s ankles and wrists are shackled together, the metal _clinking_ and _clanking_ as he walks. He is dressed in a black t-shirt and pants, ones that remind Hermione of muggle cop shows her parents used to watch.

“Miss Granger, if he causes any trouble, I and a few other Ministry members will be right outside,” the ministry member says.

“Okay, thank you, but I think I will be fine,” Hermione says, sending a glance to Draco. He meets her glance and gives a slight smirk.

The Ministry member politely nods before closing the door, leaving Hermione and Draco alone. The heavy, metal door makes a loud _thud_ as it is shut, the sound echoing through the tiny interrogation room.

Hermione turns her body to face Draco’s. He’s sitting in the chair, his hands in his lap and head down. The witch bites her lip and takes a deep breath before walking over to the other side of the table.

“Hello, Granger,” Draco greets, turning his head up to face the witch. 

Hermione wasn’t expecting him to speak first, she doesn't even know what to say. The only reason she is interrogating arrestee’s today is because Ron and Harry are on a special top-secret auror mission. She wishes she had Harry’s thinking-on-his-feet ability. Hermione always has to plan everything out in her head and all she got was a few mere minutes before she was expected to speak.

“Uh, hi.”

Hermione quickly gathers herself and brings her clipboard to her chest, her right hand has a transcription quill (the only magic-related object that would work in the room) at the ready. She places her clipboard on the table and tells the pen to start transcribing. Hermione thought it was a little funny that all you had to do to get these quills to work was to ask nicely.

“So do you know why you’re here?” Hermione asks, the tip of the transcription quill scratching at the pad of legal parchment. 

“Oh, yeah. I killed some guys and you all are trying to save me. Did I get close?”

Hermione rolls her eyes at Draco’s words. How could the witch have forgotten his never ending sarcasm. This was going to be a _long_ session if she wanted to get anything of use out of him.

“Not quite,” Hermione starts, a studios and stern tone present in her voice, “You are here on charges of murder, conspiring to commit murder, kidnapping and torturing, misuse of magic and magical artifacts, and housing of war criminal, Lord Voldemort.”

“I think I was pretty close,” Draco shrugs.

“Now, if you cooperate this can be quick, you’ll be in and out and your trial date set,” Hermione explains.

“And if I don’t?”

Hermione should’ve known he would ask this question. The man just seems to want to damn himself more and more.

“And if you don’t, we may be here a while.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Draco says, he points his grey eyes into Hermione’s bronze ones and gives a slight smirk. 

Hermione’s eyes widen at the contact, she feels as though he is staring into her soul and can see all her thoughts.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised, Granger. I always knew you had a thing for me in school,” Draco chuckles. 

“I most definitely did not, Malfoy.”

“If you say so.”

Hermione shakes her eyes from Draco’s, collecting her thoughts before returning to the interrogation. Her mind scoffs at Draco’s notions, she had _never_ , not even for a second, fancied him. She knew he was trying to pull her off her feet, make her slip up somehow, but she was not going to let him get to her like that. 

“Well, I know the murder charge here is false, they are specifically speaking of Albus Dumbledore. Whom, I know for a fact, you did not kill.”

“You think so highly of me, Granger. Who do I have to thank for that? Potter? Maybe even the Weasley you hang around,” Draco says with a tone of sarcasm that is practically drooling off of him. 

“Malfoy, just because I know you didn’t kill the headmaster of Hogwarts, doesn't mean I think highly of you.”

Draco shifts in his seat, his hands fidget and his shackles clink and clank. Hermione can’t help but notice the way his Azkaban clothing stretches and pulls along his chest and shoulders. The shirt seems just a size too small as it bunches and wrinkles over his arms. He has definitely gotten more fit from what she remembers, or the clothes are doing him a large service. 

Draco sees the witch staring and a small smirk appears on his face, “You know, could ask them to get me a larger shirt? This ones a bit tight.”

Hermione’s skin begins to flush, the embarrassment of being caught is creeping up her features. She tries to suppress it, but in this room her occlumency won’t hold. She feels the flush on her cheeks and the sweat on her palms. Hermione puts her hands behind her back to be able to fidget with them away from Draco’s prying eyes. 

The witch bites her lip and a low chuckle erupts from Draco’s lips. 

“Barely made it five minutes with me before getting all hot and bothered. I think your previous statements are not holding up too well, Granger.”

“Oh, sod off. Now, back to business, if you so much as say one more sarcastic remark I’ll make sure you have to wait for Harry to get back to be interrogated.”

“I’m so scared!” Draco mocks in a high pitched voice, his hands brought up to his face.

Hermione gives Draco a glare before he settles back into his chair.

“Now,” Hermione starts, pacing around the table and Draco, “it says here that you have charges on conspiring to commit murder. This can be— _overlooked_ —if you have information on other Death Eaters and their crimes.”

“Granger, if you think I was high ranking enough to have that kind of information why would I be here,” Draco scoffs, leaning his head back to look up at Hermione as she is right behind his chair when his comment is made. 

Hermione stops and looks down at the blonde. From this angle she notices his sharp chin and jawline as well as his high-raised cheek bones. His hair falls and almost brushes the side of her thigh as Draco is leaning back. His eyes.

His cold, grey, inviting eyes.

Hermione needs to stop looking into this man's eyes, he must be on some form of love potion, although the witch is unsure how he would’ve gotten it, everytime she looks into those piercing grey abysses she falls in a trance. 

“Well then,” Hermione starts, resuming her pacing around the room and actively trying to keep her gaze away from Draco’s eyes, “this will be very slow moving if you refuse to budge on the knowledge that you have.”

“You see, Granger,” Draco starts, his head resuming its original position, “The thing is, I _have_ no other knowledge to bestow upon you and your colleagues.”

Hermione is getting frustrated with Draco, all her questions and help are answered with some form of sarcastic or flirtatious remark. _This is why Harry and Ron are more suited for this_ the witch thinks. They wouldn’t be so easily taken aback by flirtatious remarks from Draco, of all people. And would have more authoritative tones that would be answered in proper. 

“Oh, Malfoy, you see,” Hermione says as she reaches the opposite side of the table, placing her hands wide on the surface before slightly leaning near Draco. “I think that is false.”

Draco sits up in his chair a bit more, leaning forward, almost touching Hermione’s nose. Hermione thinks instinctively to pull away, but keeps her ground. She doesn't need him giving her another remark about how she is weak willed, or something of that nature.

“Sorry to say, Granger, but it is indeed true.” As Draco says this, his eyes lock with Hermione’s. The witch tries to keep her resolve, but she can feel it quickly melting in his gaze. She becomes acutely aware that the white oxford she chose to wear today is unbuttoned a little more than what’s considered professional, considering the abnormally sweltering heat. Which is only made more apparent by the lack of cooling charms in the room.

Hermione sees Draco’s gaze drop for a moment before quickly looking back up again, a devilish smirk plastered upon his face.

“Nice rack,” Draco says, pulling away from their little tance and sitting back in his chair. He puts his hands behind his head, the shackles clinking and clanking as he does.

Hermione gives a stern glare before getting up and adjusting her shirt. She is appalled that Draco would even think to say these things. He surely wants a life sentence in Azkaban with how he’s behaving. 

“Malfoy, remember what I said earlier. It’d be wise for you to stop acting like such a smart alec.”

Hermione moves herself to the wall across from Draco, her arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the wall. The heel of her right black pump laying against the wall as well.

“Oh, I remember all right. Seeing you so easily riled up is too much of an opportunity to pass up, though,” Draco smirks.

“Would you stop smirking for one bloody second!”

“There it is! I can live out my soon-to-be life sentence in Azkaban, a happy man,” Draco says, leaning forward in his chair again, his hands moving to lay on the table.

Hermione was beyond tolerating Draco at this point, she so wanted to get the guards in here to take him away, but something about that leering gaze was keeping her from doing so. 

“Wait a minute. Okay, I have a proposal, Granger.”

“Oh, and what might that be?” Hermione says, rolling her eyes.

“No need to be so snippy. But—if you insist—I’ll give you all the information I have, in exchange for a date.”

Malfoy ends his proposal with a smile, leaning forward in a sort of triumph. Hermione just stares at the man. She can not even believe what he just proposed. Like he ever thought she would agree to that.

But a part of the witch was curious. That gaze that kept her here may have some more things to offer later. Hermione contemplates her options before deciding on the best course of action.

“Fine.”

“Well, that was easier than I thought!” Draco says, scooting his chair back and standing to his feet. 

“Now, you have to sit back down and give me all the information you have,” Hermione says, slowly walking over to where Draco is standing. 

“Oh, no, darling, the date comes first,” Draco says, looking down at the small witch with a smirk.

“If I agree to this, you would be on house arrest until further notice, do you think you could handle that?” Hermione asks, leaning one of her hands on the table and locking her eyes with Draco’s.

“ _Granger,_ I was in Azkaban for three months, I can handle being in my house for an extended period of time.” 

Draco’s hand reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind Hermione’s ear, his fingers drift along the curve of her jaw before reaching her chin and pushing it up towards his gaze.

Hermione is frozen, she is concerned that she is not saying no to his advances. She should be revolted that he even has the audacity to touch her face, but nevertheless, she doesn't pull away. A part of her wants this and to see where those grey eyes lead to.

“See you at seven,” Draco says with a smirk. Before he heads to the door he swipes his finger along Hermione’s bottom lip, the witch instinctively parts them before his touch is gone and she can hear the clanking of his shackles. 

~

Hermione had arranged the plans for Draco’s temporary release on house arrest and headed back to her London flat. She was thankful that he was the only person she had to interrogate that day. She wasn’t sure if she would've been able to continue if there were others.

Now, what to wear. The witch looks through her closet to pick out the perfect outfit. She laughs to herself at the thought that she is even getting dressed up for this occasion.

She rifles through hangers upon hangers of fabric before she settles on a black, knee-length, short-sleeved dress. She puts on her dress, tames her hair, and puts on some light makeup before apparating to Malfoy Manor.

The witch takes a deep breath before walking down the long entrance to Malfoy Manor. She arrives at a looming black door with a silver knocker. Hermione reaches her hand up to use the knocker, but before she gets the chance Draco opens the door.

“Oh, um—hi,” Hermione says, unprepared for him to open the door so soon, but she should expect these types of things from him.

“Why, do come in, Miss Granger,” Draco says, motioning for her to step inside. 

Hermione walks inside of Malfoy Manor. The last time she was here was very much an experience she would like to forget, but trusts that Draco won’t pull anything on her tonight. Once she is fully inside, Draco closes the door and leads her to a small dining area set for two. 

The witch takes a seat and Draco sits across from her. She finally gets a good look at him, he is wearing an all black suit, much like the ones he wore during his sixth year at Hogwarts, and his hair is tamed in a loose side part. 

“I see you notice my better-tamed hair,” Draco chuckles. Hermione peels away her gaze from him and sees that there is a bowl of spaghetti in front of her.

“It is a _slight_ improvement,” the witch jokes. She takes her napkin and puts it in her lap before eating the pasta. The elves at Malfoy Manor _really_ know how to put together a meal.

Once she has had a few bites of her meal she begins to turn the topic over to Draco’s ‘information’.

“So, that information you said you have?”

“Oh, yes. Well I was thinking we could share that _after_ dinner,” Draco smirks. 

“It seems as though you don’t have any information, Malfoy.”

“Well, that’s for me to know and you to find out,” Draco says with a smile.

Hermione rolls her eyes at Draco’s constant sarcasm. She is beginning to think that he doesn't have any extra information and just wanted to get alone with her. And she can’t help but think that a part of her wouldn’t mind that.

“Granger, how have you been since well, _the war_.”

Hermione is surprised at his leisurely small talk. She would've expected him to take this with at least an ounce of seriousness, but that is proving to be far from true.

“Oh, um, I’ve been well.”

Draco gets up and slowly walks to her side of the table, he reaches his hand out, “Come with me.” 

Hermione takes his hand as his words evaporate. She is wondering where they could possibly be headed, one of the only ideas that stands out to her is that there is some secret Death Eater Archive that he is taking her to.

As they are walking the dark halls of Malfoy Manor, Draco and Hermione’s glance meet. Hermione begins to melt in his gaze and Draco begins to smirk. 

“Oh, so easy to get you all riled up,” Draco whispers, slowly backing the witch into a nearby bedroom.

Hermione is lost in his gaze, his words falling on deaf, but perceptive, ears. She realizes that there is a change of scenery. They are now in a room bedecked in black, but the space isn’t dark. A few candles around the room light as the pair walk in. 

Draco has Hermione in his arms, his hands running up and down her back and sides. The crook of her waist becomes a grounding spot for his grasp. 

Hermione aches for his touch, she brings her hands to his face and her lips up to his, enveloping them in a passionate kiss. Draco reciprocates her motions and begins unzipping the back of her dress. 

Hermione lets her arms fall to the side as Draco pushes the black dress off of her small frame. Once the dress is in a puddle at her feet she brings her hands up to push off Draco’s black waistcoat. He obliges and settles his arms before moving to undo the buttons on his black oxford. 

Once Draco’s oxford is on the floor Hermione’s hands run along the expanse of his chest. Her fingers take note of every groove, tense, and twitch at her touch. His muscles are defined and lean and his skin is silky smooth.

His arms regain hold of the witch and he pushes her down onto the king size bed in the room. Draco moves from Hermione’s lips to her neck and jaw, leaving wet kisses and nips in his wake. His hands roam up and down her undergarment-clad form. He reaches from behind the witch and unhooks her bra, tossing it to the floor with the rest of their clothing. 

Draco’s mouth goes to her collar, the defined bone structure appears dainty and fine on Hermione. He leaves more nips and kisses as his hands massaging her breasts.

Hermione’s hands have tangled themselves in Draco’s platinum hair and she lets out a few whimpers and moans as he marks her skin. Draco then pulls himself back up to Hermione’s face, his hand trails along her sternum and stomach as the other is on her side, steadying himself on his side.

The man's fingers trail further and further down the witches stomach before he reaches the top of her knickers. He lightly pulls and toys at the black waistband, watching the witch keen at his faint touch.

“May I?” Draco asks.

“Yes,” Hermione quickly whimpers and Draco proceeds to pull down her knickers and toss them to the side. 

He reaches his hand to her sex and dips his fingers in her arousal. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.”

Hermione moans in response to his touch and he begins to lightly circle her clit. 

“Fucking hell, Draco.”

Hermione barely registers that she says Draco instead of Malfoy, but Draco realizes it instantly.

“Fuck.”

Draco then dips a finger inside her and Hermione’s eyes roll slightly back. He begins to slowly pump his finger in and out, watching the witch writhe and moan in pleasure.

Hermione reaches her hands out to find Draco’s belt. Once she does, she quickly unbuckles the metal and slides the belt off with a clank. 

“Hold on, darling. Your turn first,” Draco whispers into the witch's ear, nibbling at her earlobe as he does. He returns his fingers to her clit and creates harsher circles.

“Fuck, Draco, I’m close,” Hermione moans as she feels her release building up inside of her.

“Come for me, Hermione.”

As Draco says her name, Hermione’s release washes over her and she moans his name in return.

“That’s it, such a good girl.”

Draco’s hand rides her through her high only pulling away once it’s over, licking his fingers clean. 

Once Hermione has cooled down a bit, she sits up and unzips Draco’s pants, with his help, she takes them and his black briefs off as well. Draco takes a hold of the witch’s hips and flips her over, so that he’s on top of her. 

Draco positions himself and then slowly pushes inside. Hermione is overcome with pleasure as he fills her. Once he’s to the hilt, he begins to thrust his hips back and forth. He starts at a slow pace, but quickly speeds up.

Hermione is moaning as his hips come in contact with hers, slamming into them, surely creating bruises. 

“Fuck, so—good—“ Draco incoherently groans.

Hermione’s mind is blank as Draco’s lips return to her neck, nipping and biting at the flesh. She barely notices him saying her name incoherently against her skin as his thrusts become sloppy.

Hermione feels a second release building inside of her and as she does her walls begin to clench around Draco. “Draco, I’m gonna—“

“If you keep going like this we’ll be finishing together.”

With one final thrust, the pair's release washes over them and they both collapse on each other, Draco breathing heavy and Hermione seeing stars. Draco pulls out of her and lays next to her, bringing her into a light hug.

“So, about that information?” Hermione asks as Draco’s hands roam her waist.

“I never had any.”


End file.
